Saying Goodbye
by agentcarter12
Summary: She didn't think she'd ever want to leave. Ever. Who would? She might want to leave, but she would never leave without saying Goodbye to her Doctor. As the word Goodbye echoed through her mind, the TARDIS groaned, that familiar wheezing sound she'd become used to at first, and then come to love so much. *How the impossible girl left.* [Angst/Romance/Friendship]


She didn't think she'd ever want to leave. Ever. Who would? Truly, who would want to leave a wonderfully mad man with a box that could take you _anywhere! _Anywhere you wanted, any place you thought about. It was beyond her understanding of _why_ anyone would ever want to leave.

And yet, here she was five years later, with two packed bags and a pair of shoes in her hands, thinking about exactly how she would tell him that she was leaving.

It wasn't his fault, and neither the new companion's. Katie, her name was. Lovely girl. But as soon as she'd stepped in, Clara wasn't the newest companion anymore. There were more places to see, this time through someone else's eyes. There were planets they had to visit, and things to do and she wasn't needed anymore.

It wasn't his fault. He tried to keep them equal, he did. But in his own way, he failed. She noticed how he noticed the look in Katie's eyes first, the wonder, the awe, and then at her. She noticed how his special smiles directed at her only where directed towards someone else again.

That wasn't the only reason. There wasn't that strong an ache inside her to go frolicking through every meadow –alien or not- anymore. She was older now, much older- and she wanted a proper family. She wanted candle-light dinners, and a small child with tiny fingers and tiny toes she could call her own. She wanted someone on the other side of the bed of her. Someone who loved her and spent time with her and sat down for a while with her. And she knew that however much she might want that with the doctor- _Her doctor-_ she couldn't stop anyone much less the man who dreamt of the stars to stop.

So standing there, Clara Oswald thought of all the things she'd thought of when she'd made this decision. And with a silent sadness inside her that was slowly fading, she hoisted her bags with new found strength.

She was confused when she couldn't find the doctor next to his beloved console. She might want to leave, but she would never leave without saying goodbye. As the word _Goodbye _echoed through her mind, the TARDIS groaned, that familiar wheezing sound she'd become used to at first, and then come to love so much.

It seemed much more sad, a sort of melancholy vibe off it. She almost felt like putting her bags down and hugging the old cow. A tiny sob came through her. What if she never saw the familiar blue doors ever again?

_That won't happen, Ms. Oswald. _

A hologram of herself stood in front of her. Like that one time she'd yelled at the TARDIS.

"What if it does, huh? What if the doctor chooses to never come see me, ever again?" she said, looking at her, voicing her fears.

_Doesn't matter if he chooses to or not. I go where I'm needed. So you can count on me being there whenever you need me. And he'll always need you, Clara Oswald._

The hologram replied, smiling at her kindly. And then it disappeared.

Tears formed in Clara's eyes. "Oi, you made me cry a bit." She chastised, wiping them carefully. The TARDIS's groaning seemed lighter this time, as if saying that's what it meant to do.

She was jolted out of her haze when the doctor arrived, asking her what on earth those bags were for.

"Where are you going? I thought you said you didn't like alien laundries."

She smiled a little, sniffing.

"I'm leaving, Doctor." She said, looking for his reaction.

He looked heartbroken, as if she'd hit him with her elbow in the rib. "Why?" he asked.

"There's a time when all things end, doctor. And so has my time with you, for now. Things are changing again, but that's good. I'll always remember you." she said, walking closer to him, and dropping her bags.

"Would you reconsider?" he asked.

"Maybe someday, you'll get a call on that phone of yours, by a woman named Clara Oswald wanting to travel for a while again. Pick up the phone, then, Doctor. Don't forget me." She said, tears threatening to fall as she did.

For a minute she wondered how exactly she'd function without looking at her doctor's face every Wednesday.

Her bowtie-wearing, sad-looking, hand-holding Doctor.

If he hadn't hugged her then, she'd have broken down crying right there. But he did. And she hugged back with all her strength. She'd miss him so much, and he'd miss her so much, but everything ended, and so did their time.

She took hold of something buried deep inside her, something she didn't know she had- something that allowed her to keep standing without the strength in her legs- something that allowed her to slowly back away from welcoming arms, and pick up her luggage.

As she walked to the door, she turned around, a tear trailing it's way down.

"Don't forget me." She said.

"Never in an eternity." He replied, a similar trail on his face.

She took in a deep breathe, to say the last two words.

"Goodbye, Doctor."

"Goodbye, my impossible girl." He said, as she walked out the doors which had refused to let her out, understood and opened without a word.

She placed a hand on the unopened door when she was out.

"Goodbye to you to, mate." She said, and turned around. The other door refused to shut.

And then she understood. With two bags and shoes in one hand, Clara Oswald smiled a little, wiped her tears and walked a couple feet away. And then she snapped her fingers.

The door snapped shut, and a wide smile over came the impossible girl. She turned around one last time, to look at the familiar blue color she'd become so used to, and started to hear the sound of it slowly disappearing. The sound she'd run towards every Wednesday for the last five years.

Another thought pierced her mind, a thought that didn't belong to her.

_See you soon, mate._

And then she turned around, happy. And then she started walking. And kept walking.


End file.
